


What's the point of a temporary love?

by privateuytrewiuytrew124



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Angst, Cannon compliant, F/M, I miss Gabby, Love, They deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27140495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateuytrewiuytrew124/pseuds/privateuytrewiuytrew124
Summary: She’s tilting her chin up stubbornly the first time he ever thinks, "God, I want to marry her." Curling her lips back, eyes hard as she prepared to argue with another paramedic about the best way to treat a patient. It’s her quick smiles and laughter that draw him in, but it’s her soul that keeps him tethered to her.
Relationships: Matthew Casey/Gabriela Dawson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	What's the point of a temporary love?

“I love you,” She says, and it’s a confession. A terrifying moment of hope and wanting and vulnerability. Her brown eyes are bright with honesty and he suddenly can’t believe that he’s waited so long to tell her how he feels. He says it back and it’s like everything makes sense again. Every tilting, hesitant, reaching moment falls into place with such suddenness that his heart skips. Her lips curl up, spreading into that wide smile that he can never look away from, and he pulls her in for a breathless kiss. He’s shaky and nervous and so, so desperate to get this right. To keep her with him forever. Her lips taste like sunrise, and he’s never been one to look for signs, but he thinks it might just represent a new beginning.

“I love you,” She says, and it’s a promise. It’s not so weighty now, not something to be afraid or unsure of. They whisper it to each other, grinning and blushing. They murmur it on slow mornings. They shout it into the empty streets when they stay out too late, drunk on each other’s company and the endless, glittering possibilities of their lives. It’s sweet on their lips -- tastes like sugar when she whispers it in the middle of a kiss. He’ll never get tired of hearing it, of saying it. Again and again and again. She shines so bright. Burns with an intensity he can’t get enough of, even when it makes him want to scream. Because she’s so  _ much. _ So unapologetic in her existence and her fire and her sharp stubbornness. 

She’s tilting her chin up stubbornly the first time he ever thinks,  _ God, I want to marry her. _ Curling her lips back, eyes hard as she prepared to argue with another paramedic about the best way to treat a patient. It’s her quick smiles and laughter that draw him in, but it’s her soul that keeps him tethered to her.

“I love you,” She says, and it’s a vow. Official this time. Rushed through in a courtroom with their family surrounding them, tired but glowing. He thinks his heart might burst in that moment --he never thought he could be so happy. It’s permanent and real and  _ theirs. _ Just theirs. The moment stretches across his heart and he truly believes they’ll be this happy forever.  Kelly claps him on the back, a rare grin splitting across his face, and Chief pulls him into a tight hug. She kisses him under the streetlights, slow and sweet, when they slip away from the crowd for a moment. Then they track down Louie --extract him from Chief’s arms-- and walk home together, their own strange little family. 

He’s loved before --his plans to marry Hallie had been so entrenched in his mind that for a long time even considering anything else had felt wrong. But he’d never loved like this. So desperately and totally and painfully. Because sometimes it was like he couldn’t breathe without her. 

He hopes it’ll stay like this forever.

“I love you,” She says, and it’s a reassurance. One borne from too many tense moments and fitful nights. Too little communication. Unspoken words litter their bedroom floor, slowly eating away at the wood and burrowing into the house’s very foundation. He whispers it back, but it doesn’t comfort him. The old fear is back, the one that burnt his tongue the first time they said it, but it’s not exciting now. It makes him sad.  _ Just talk to me _ he wants to say, to scream, to beg. When did it all get so twisted? They loved each other so much, so why couldn’t that be enough? She hides from him. Turns inward. Sneaks around instead of talking to him. She’s always been so independent, and he loves that about her, but now it hurts, too. Because she doesn’t trust him, doesn’t turn to him when she needs help, and he can’t understand where they went wrong. When their silences went from companionable to stifling. When every word became so charged. 

She turns to Kelly when that girl goes missing. They go out together at all hours, bend their heads together as they whisper worriedly. And he’s not jealous of Kelly, necessarily. Just at the fact that she opened up to someone else. Someone who she’s not married to or in love with or even living with. Someone who didn’t vow to support her no matter what.

He wants to hit something, but instead he leans in when she tilts her head up for a kiss. Lets her assurances wash over him. Wills himself to believe everything will be okay.

“I love you,” She says, and it’s an apology. She’s packing bags, throwing clothes out of her closet with a violence that leaves him frozen. Puerto Rico? They haven’t had the time to even talk about the argument they had earlier, the one they’d really been having for days. Adoption, pregnancy, the ever growing distance between them that leaves him feeling like he can’t breath. And now she was leaving. More distance. Miles and miles between them. He can still taste his bitter words on his tongue, a lurking reminder that this was his fault. His anger. His stupid, reckless, thoughtless words. Her lips are twisted tight, a sharp line of hurt etched across her face. 

_ It used to be the thing you loved about me _ she had said, tears brimming. The kitchen island between them like a barrier. He’d stared at her, unbelieving.

_ It is the thing I love about you. It is, it is, it is.  _ But he couldn’t choke the words out. He wasn’t even sure if they were true anymore. He’d fallen in love with her independence, but he hadn’t realized what it had meant then, hadn’t understood that she would never allow herself to rely on him, to trust him the way he trusted her.

And now she wouldn’t even look at him.

“Gabby, please.”

“I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

She’s not.

“I love you,” She says. It’s just a sentence. He feels hollowed out as he hugs her, tells her to go, practically pushes her out the door of  _ their house _ and encourages her to live out her dreams. Dreams that don’t include him. When did everything get so jagged?  _ Why didn’t you give us a chance? _ He wants to shout at her retreating figure. Instead he watches as she walks across their front lawn --his front lawn-- and to her car. 

She doesn’t look back. 

He sits on the floor for a long time, gasping out sobs. Restless and useless and so, so stupid. He splits his hand open on the rough brick of their fireplace, burns his throat on the liquor they kept under the sink. She’d never been his, not really. She’d held back and he’d ignored it, had loved every part of her that she’d allowed him to, but she’d kept enough of herself hidden to be safe. To be able to cut and run when she needed to. And he hadn’t. And it hurt.

God, it hurt


End file.
